Those are not your children
by OliveBranchStories
Summary: Examining the betrayal, hurt and loyalty of the Senior Staff at the end of Season 3 & start of season 4 with the MS disclosure and addition of new staff to run the reelection. "It hurt us all to stay, but it would hurt us worse to leave. And so we stayed and went to work, stomaching the heavy presence of the strange creatures sleeping in our beds and rearranging our homes." Oneshot


**Don't ask me what happened here, because I do not really know. This is inspired by the West Wing and was written as a kind of examination of the feelings of the Senior Staff after the President revealed his MS then brought in Bruno, Connie and Doug to work on the reelection campaign at the end of season 3 and the beginning of season 4. The title was just a phrase that randomly appeared in my brain as I was feeding the horses and I liked it because it felt unsettling. **

**It's possible this one-shot will make little to no sense even to those familiar with the West Wing, I was mainly letting off steam. I wrote an article for my uni's student magazine today and ended up feeling so full of words that this happened.**

**Anyway, I've siphoned off my excess words now.**

**Enjoy.**

**Those are not your children.**

We were the wounded children and they were the cuckoos in our nest.

You had told us of your lie then punished us for our shock. Our reactions were not perfect, we were hurt and we were angry, and for that you drew a brand across us as though you were the one who was burned. A reflexive step back had turned into us reeling from an unseen blow; delivered by one we thought would never strike us.

You punished us for our distance by pushing us away. You held an iron grip over our lives even as you declared yourself done with us. We did not cower for we are proud people, but we did not strike back either. We loved you and you were sick and we did not know how to fix the world.

Quietly, we self-destructed and then we put ourselves back together. We self-destructed and then we put ourselves back together. We were in a cycle. We were hurting and we were making mistakes but we did not want to be pitied, least of all by you. We did not want to you to return to us because you pitied us or thought us in need of saving. We wanted you to return because you loved us, or even just because you remembered we loved you.

We kept the ship afloat in broken seas whilst our Captain was far away, and for that we were rewarded with foreign creatures. You returned to our lives in a wave of fury, as loud in your presence as you were silent in your absence, and under each arm you carried many eyed beasts you said were to replace us. You had knocked our legs out from underneath us and now you were blaming us when we could not stand. We were your children and we loved you, but now you put cuckoos in our nest and told us to be grateful.

It hurt us all to stay, but it would hurt us worse to leave. And so we stayed and went to work, stomaching the heavy presence of the strange creatures sleeping in our beds and rearranging our homes.

After an eon you remembered us; or someone remembered us for you. You told them you felt burned and they told you we were on fire. You are a _good person_, you always were. Realizing what you had done you threw a bucket of water over us to douse the flames. Gasping and dripping and steaming we blinked at you, sodden and startled, as you told us you were sorry. For us you sent the cuckoos outside and behind them you barred the doors.

You realized that whilst you were sick and it was terrible, it was not your choice, unlike our suffering. Our suffering was your choice, the hand pressing us down a hand you could remove. Shocked and remorseful you let us stand and we stood for you, for you had returned to us and we forgave you. No matter the depth and breadth of our pain, the moment you apologized was followed by the moment we forgave you. We know you and we knew you, we knew our pain was a byproduct and not a goal. Maybe if we were as proud as the cuckoos we would had demanded more. An admission, perhaps; you spelling out the realization that even causing harm as a byproduct is a cruelty. But you knew, and we knew you knew, and we were eager to forgive and forget. We just wanted to work for you again; we just wanted the feel of the harness and the weight of the load.

You were the dreamer, the big-thinker, but perhaps in your big-thinking you could not comprehend our ways. You were a leader, but we were not just followers. We fought the fights you could not fight and won the battles you could not win.

We are your children and your defenders, your students and your teachers.

We are complex and we are real, we are breaking and we are healing, and we are each the protagonist of our own stories.


End file.
